The song of Roland - fact or fiction?

If the weather was reasonable during the hours when the refuge was quiet , I sat by the open doorway of the refuge de la Breche de Roland breathing in the fresh mountain air and soaking up whatever warmth the sun was willing to afford me while all the hikers sweating off their breakfasts on the mountains. Staying by the door I was within earshot of the telephone and could see any potential customers approach. I also had a direct view on the Breche - that other open doorway to Spain in the south. I spent a lot of time contemplating this dramatic rectangular opening in the rock face – this empty space, defined by the absence of matter. It is undeniably one of the world’s most spectacular border crossings, rising more than a hundred metres tall and forty metres wide. I knew its contours and relief by heart. But Roland’s Breach is much more than just a space - it is an invitation, a promise of adventure and the exoticism of the Iberian lands beyond.

Legend says that the Breche was hewn open by the mighty Roland, wielding the sacred sword Durandal. Nowadays it is more commonly accepted among historians that Roland perished in a less dramatic landscape near Roncevalles in the Basque country. But the history of the legend is almost as interesting as the legend itself.

In the year 777 Charlemagne was the Emperor of the Frankish Empire, an empire that extended well beyond the borders of modern day France. He was an innovative emperor and was the first to introduce schools in an attempt to educate the population. Even today, French schoolchildren still sing songs about him. Every emperor must have an empire and he was eager to extend his.

Soliman ibn al-Arabi, the governor of Barcelona, encouraged Charlemagne to take the city of Saragossa. The disgruntled governor was rebelling against the oppressive authority of the Caliph of Cordoba, Abd al Rahman and promised to engineer a popular uprising to coincide with Charlemagne’s arrival. The ambitious plan was to seize control of the entire north of Moorish dominated Spain. However, the Caliph got wind of the governor’s treachery and Charlemagne’s planned invasion. Al-Arbi’s promised rebellion and reinforcements never materialized. When Charlemagne arrived at Saragossa with his army, he found battalions of Moorish forces deployed ready to defend the city. Meanwhile, news came from much further north that the hitherto subjugated Saxons had revolted and were marching on Cologne. Charlemagne and his army were obliged to retreat and return to France.

They took more or less the same route they had taken on the way, passing through the town of Pamplona. Charlemagne had counted on the spoils of battle from Saragossa and was loath to return to France empty handed. Morale was low after the humiliating stand off. On the outward journey, Charlemagne’s army had been welcomed in Pamplona and heralded as defenders of Christianity, but on their way back they sacked and pillaged the town taking what they could, where they could, because they could.

On the fifteenth of august 778, as Charlemagne’s troops made their way back across the Pyrenees, their rear guard was ambushed in a pass. Rocks were rolled down onto them from above, crushing many of the soldiers to death. The survivors were charged upon and forced into a narrow ravine, where they were almost all mercilessly and savagely slaughtered. Roland, Charlemagne’s nephew and Duke of Brittany, was amongst those killed. Most historians place the scene of the battle as the valley of Roncevalles in the Basque province of Navarra.

The Basques claimed responsibility for the ambush, justifying their actions as retaliation for the sacking of Pamplona. (Though some accounts say that it was just the work of some opportunist bandits.) The next time Charlemagne’s forces crossed the Pyrenees they took Basque women and children as hostages to ensure their safe passage.

Those seem to be the facts, but the legend of Roland tells quite a different story. It originated as a tale aimed to galvanize the spirits of those battling in Hastings in 1066 and in the tale Roland is idealized as a hero, with aristocratic blood and God on his side.

In 1130, Sancho de la Rosa, the bishop of Pamplona, claimed to have seen the ambush of Roncevalles in a dream. The story was spread far and wide and the church played an active role in resurrecting Roland as a folk hero. Forty years later, in 1170, an anonymous poet allegedly wrote the 4002 verses of the Song of Roland, (though apparently the original text was only unearthed in 1832).

 The Song of Roland was widely diffused by the church, particularly along the pilgrimage route of the Saint James’ way. Statues were erected in Roland’s honour, sermons were preached in his name, and some four hundred years after his death, the memory of Roland was alive again. The church was having difficulty finding recruits to fight the holy war for Jerusalem and funds to finance it. Those seeking salvation on the Saint James’ way were promised that heavenly deliverance if they joined the Crusades. The Song of Roland was an elaborate, though admirably poetic, exercise in propaganda.

It tells the story of brave and pious Roland, who carries a magical sword with sacred relics concealed within its hilt. The sword is called Durandal. Retreating from Spain, Roland and his army are caught between a rock and a hard place. Faced with the impenetrable barrier of a sheer cliff wall and the pursuing enemy hot on their heels Roland sees death and defeat close at hand. Gone are the disgruntled Basques of Pamplona and Roncevalles. In the legend they are replaced by another enemy – the Saracens, cruel and infidel by both nature and inclination. But never fear – social rank, God and true bravery are seen to gain victory over the hordes of Islam.

Roland is loathed to let the sacred sword to fall into impious hands. In an act of desperation, in order to break the blade, he strikes Durandal against the rock. 

Rollant his stroke on a dark stone repeats

And more of it breaks off than I can speak.

The sword cries out, yet breaks not in the least

Back from the blow into the air it leaps

Destroy it can he not; which when he sees,

Within himself he makes a plaint most sweet.

"Ah! Durendal, most holy, fair indeed!

Relics enough thy golden hilt conceals:

Saint Peter's Tooth, the Blood of Saint Basile,

Some of the Hairs of my Lord, Saint Denise,

Some of the Robe, was worn by Saint Mary.

It is not right that pagans should thee seize,

For Christian men your use shall ever be. 

It is not Durandal that breaks, but the rock. Our hero hacks an opening in the mountain and through this newly hewn doorway, his army escapes north into France. And thus the legend explains the geological oddity that is the Breche de Roland, Roland’s Breach. 

Even if Roland didn’t escape through the Breche, plenty of others have used it as a passage between France and Spain. During the Spanish Civil War, many of those fleeing the excesses of Franco’s regime came this way. It the Second World War, persecuted Jews made their escape southwards from German occupied France, en route to ships harboured on the Portuguese coast that would then carry them to America. Generations of contrabandists have plied their trade over this border crossing, meeting with their Iberian partners at the foot of the mountain aptly named the Descargador, just south of the Breche. Though it is not the most common route, it is still occasionally used as a passage by hardy pilgrims on the St. James’ way to Campostella in Galicia.